


Live Free Or Twi-Hard

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, BDSM, First Time, Kinks, Season/Series 06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-19
Updated: 2010-11-09
Packaged: 2018-09-06 20:39:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8768491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Short story about what I hope happens in the next episode of Supernatural 6.05. Obviously plenty of spoilers, read at own risk.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** This is obviously a work of fiction. Besides I’m (sadly) in no way affiliated with the CW or any of its employees. I’ve used as many spoilers for episode 6.05 as possible, but 99% of this fic is the result of my twisted imagination. Deal with it.

  
  
”Dean?”  
  
Sam’s voice is filled with concern.  
  
"What happened?” he asks, voice almost a whisper. Dean doesn’t answer. Blood is dripping down his neck, running slowly down into the collar of his shirt which is already soaked with the red liquid. His face is pale and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. It is completely silent around them. The shouts and screams from the battle with the vampires just a few moments ago have died away. As have the vampires. All Sam can hear is the shaking breath from his brother, standing only a few feet away half turned away from him. He’s staring at his hands, his bloodstained hands, like they amaze him, paralyses him.  
  
Sam approaches him cautiously. Something is off.  
  
“Dean?” he tries again. “Tell me that’s not your blood.”  
  
Dean doesn’t seem to register that Sam is even there. But when Sam grabs his shoulder intending to turn him around, he jerks away and hisses between clenched teeth: “Don’t touch me!” Sam can almost see his heart pounding, the tension rolling off his brother like a thunderstorm. It’s unsettling. It’s not like he’s never seen Dean tense before. Hell, he’s seen him strung up like a freaking longbow, infuriated, ready to deal out punches at anything that moves. But this is different. It’s almost like he wants to crawl out of his own skin, like he’s disgusted by himself and everything around him.  
  
Dean looks at him. Head bowed down, shoulders hunched, eyes almost completely hidden by his eyebrows. It’s downright scary, the look he gives Sam. His eyes are bloodshot, like he hasn’t slept in days. A cold shiver trails down Sam’s spine. Something is definitely wrong. He can’t move, doesn’t know what to do. So he stays, watching his brother closely. Watching as Dean tears his eyes away from him and looks at his own raised hand covered in blood. Watching as Dean screws his eyes shut as he sniffs the blood, peeling his lips back from his teeth, expression utter agony.  
  
And then Dean licks at the blood. A tremor works its way through his body, like he just tasted the very source of life.  
  
“I can’t…” Dean starts to say, but trails off as he sucks one of his bloodstained fingers into his mouth. And goddamn he looks hot, but all Sam can feel is fear.  
  
“It bit you,” Sam states. “Goddamn, it bit you!” But Dean doesn’t seem to hear him, just keeps on sucking on his fingers, lost in sensation. Sam closes the distance between them, slowly, carefully, until he’s close enough to give his brother a shot of dead man’s blood.  
  
_______  
  
  
When Dean awakens a few hours later he’s tied to a chair in a cold, dark and sparsely decorated room. The hunger is excruciating and Sam is nowhere to be seen.  
  
Dean can’t feel the cold. He just knows its freezing. The hunger on the other hand… When was the last time he ate? Or drank for that matter? His mouth is dry, he’s dead beat. The room is spinning around him.  
  
Sam appears in the doorframe, Dean scents him before he sees him. He smells like gun powder, oil, blood, sweat and fear. And something… enticing. Dean knows what’s wrong. And all he can do is wish that Sam hadn’t let him wake up. That he’d just ended him before he could suffer this knowledge that he was doomed. He tries to speak, but his voice cracks. Sam flinches at the sound of Dean’s cracking voice. He looks dead beat too, dark rings under his eyes, shoulders hunched down. And he’s still wearing the bloodstained clothes from the fight.  
  
They look at each other. And it’s loaded with emotion, helplessness, love, bitterness. Why does this constantly keep happening to them? Dean almost laughs. Why do they constantly keep dying? Cause he sees no way around it. Yeah, he knows some vampires can live off cattle blood alone. But he can’t. Not even worth trying. Because he can’t live as a vampire. It’s as simple as that, end of story. He just wishes he could get to show the only person he ever really cared about just how much he loves him.  
  
Dean looks away, stares down at the dirty floor. Seems they’re squatting in an abandoned house. Why couldn’t he die somewhere beautiful for once? Maybe he should ask Sam. Huh. That would be cool. “Could you please kill me in a flower garden?” Right.  
  
“I talked to Samuel.” Sam breaks the long silence that’s stretched between them. “He knows about a cure. We can fix this, Dean!” He walks closer to Dean, kneels down right in front of his chair. Dean is attacked by his scent, draws in the smell, almost savor it. It’s even more enticing this close and it isn’t just the blood. It’s something else, just as forbidden as wanting to drink human blood. It’s something purely SAM that calls to him like no brother should ever call to another.  
  
Dean leans forward as far as ropes he’s tied with allow him, his face now only a few inches from Sam’s neck. To his credit he doesn’t move away, just stays right there. He’s almost trembling, Dean can feel the fear rolling of the man, can smell it. But it’s not fear because he’s afraid Dean might hurt him. It’s because he’s afraid he might have to hurt Dean. All this Dean can read from his brother as if it is written on his forehead.  
  
“Dean…” he says, but trails off when Dean lets out a hot breath against his ear. This time he moves away, rises to his feet again.  
  
“So there’s a cure? Am I supposed to believe that?” Dean asks with a rasping voice, partly because he tries to cover up the weird vibe they’ve got going between them and partly because he actually doesn’t believe Samuel has a cure. Sam frowns.  
  
“Yes. Why not?”  
  
“I dunno. Maybe ‘cause we’ve been hunting for years, known, hell, KNOWS a hell of a lot of good, experienced hunters and have never even heard a rumor about a cure. Ever,” Dean answers.  
  
“Well, Samuel’s been around for a while. As have our family. And all families have their family-secret, right? Maybe this is ours?”  
  
“I hope you’re right.” Dean’s voice cracks completely at the last word, and he squeezes his eyes shut against a sudden stabbing pain in his body. “What’s this cure then? I have to sacrifice a virgin under the full-moon or something?” His hands are trembling now. He tests the ropes tying them together behind his back. Why he does that he doesn’t know. Dean knows why Sam tied him up, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Still he can’t help it. Images of breaking loose, grabbing Sam and slamming him against the wall flash through his mind. Dipping his head in to lick up his neck, finding the exact place where the blood flows strongest and biting down. Dean shakes his head and squeezes his eyes even tighter shut. He hates that some part of him, some new, alien part of him finds this okay. Justifies it. Oh, he would only take a sip. He wouldn’t really hurt Sam, hell; Sam might even enjoy it if you were to believe all these teenage-vamp-fan girls.  
  
When he opens his eyes again Sam is right in front of him, hand reaching out to touch him, a weird mix of concern, fear and wonder written on his face. And he is so close. It would be so easy for Dean to just…  
  
“Get away!” Dean snaps and jerks away as far as the chair allows him. Sam freezes, but doesn’t move away. Den breathes through clenched teeth, trying to avoid inhaling too much of Sam’s intoxicating scent. Wow. Did he just think that? Intoxicating scent? Not only weird on the whole brother-area, but goddamn if he hadn’t been affected by those vamp-idols too.  
  
“No virgin sacrifices,” Sam answers softly, still way to close. “Just… You have to get the blood of the vampire that turned you.” He moves slightly away, much to Dean’s relief. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep himself from attacking his own brother.  
  
“But if you’re gonna get that I have to let you lose. I can’t go up against an entire coven alone. Can you handle that?”  
  
Dean thinks it’s a stupid question. The fact that Sam even considers letting him go annoys him. Well, annoys the hunter-part in him anyway. This new, alien beast inside him thinks that it’s a really fucking good idea.  
  
“Didn’t think you could,” Sam says, obviously as good at reading Dean as Dean is at reading him. “Well, then it’s only one thing to do,” he says, turns away from Dean and walks out of the room. He’s back almost as soon as he left; now carrying a sharp knife. Before Dean can figure out what he’s going to do he’s already cut deep into his arm, thick red blood running from the wound. Dean hisses at the sight, feels the pain grow more insistent, demanding.  
  
“What the fuck are you doing, Sammy?” he whispers as he turns his face away from Sam as if that could help. Because it doesn’t. It really fucking doesn’t. If anything, turning away so he can’t see Sam only helps him smell him even better. He hears Sam walk towards him, slow but deliberate steps.  
  
“I’m gonna give you my blood. So much of it that you won’t hunger for innocent blood, won’t be so desperate for it that you won’t be able to control yourself.”  
  
Dean feels his walls quiver. He’s not strong enough to say no, the blood sing to him, calls to him. With a last herculean effort he forces out; “No, Sammy. What if I can’t stop? If I kill you I… Or if I accidentally bite you and you turn into a vampire too? I can’t…”  
  
“You won’t, Dean. I have dead man’s blood here in my other hand. If it gets out of hand I just… and you won’t feel the need to bite me. Look at the size of this cut!”  
  
Dean looks. And it is his undoing.  
  



	2. Chapter 2

  
Author's notes: You may notice that my vamp!Dean is less like the SPN vampires and more like the way I imagine vampires to be. I just want you to know that it's all for the sake of good storytelling (or my personal vampire-preferences).  
  


* * *

Dean can feel the blood pounding through his veins. But it’s nothing compared to how he can feel Sam’s blood. The sound of his heartbeat is deafening, it surrounds him the way water surrounds you when you dive head first into the sea. You can’t sense anything other than cold, powerful water all around. And if you’re not used to swimming it can be scary at first. This isn’t just scary. This is his worst nightmare come true and at the same time it is like every dream he ever had being fulfilled.  
  
He looks at the arm being offered to him and every rational thought is slammed out of his head as if by a sledgehammer. It really isn’t his choice anymore; he just goes with the flow, gives in to his predator instinct. And as he leans towards the blood a part of his soul gives in and dies. Because the hunter Dean Winchester doesn’t do this; it’s the predator Dean that takes control of his body and closes his mouth over Sam’s wound.  
  
Sam lets out a soft breath as he feels his brother’s lips touch his arm. He is surprisingly careful, and Sam had expected it to be hard and painful, had expected it to feel wrong, to be grossed out. And there he is, not grossed out at all, just… wanting more. He doesn’t even know what he wants, just that he wants more, now! A rational thought slips through his mind, insisting that he has fallen under Dean’s spell, the vampire mojo singing soft lullabies to him, assuring him that everything will be okay even though he knows it won’t.  
  
But it’s _Dean._ And that makes it both okay and more wrong than anything in the world. Because he wants to straddle his thighs, press his arm against Dean’s mouth and reach with his free arm behind Dean’s back to unfasten the ropes keeping his brother put. He wants to get closer, feel Dean loose it as he takes hold of him, claims him. Sam doesn’t even register that the knife dipped in dead man’s blood has slipped from his grip and fallen with a loud clatter to the floor. And if he’d registered it, well, then he wouldn’t have bothered to care.  
  
His knees are weak. As they give in and he falls to the floor, his arm is ripped away from Dean’s mouth. That’s when it happens. That’s when the predator roars inside Dean and screams; “More! Now!” and tears lose from the ropes. In one second flat Dean launches himself at Sam, grips his wrists to make sure he’s not going anywhere and loses himself in Sam’s blood still flowing freely from the wound.  
  
When Dean thinks back later he believes he might have had a blackout right about there. Because he certainly can’t remember anything more before he slowly wakes up because Sam is trembling. Hard. Dean lies halfway on over him, his legs on Sam’s right side, his upper body covering Sam’s and his wrist still held firmly in Dean’s grip.  
  
The beast inside him is gone, and feeling Sam shivering so hard beneath him makes him worried. He rises to his knees, kneeling beside Sam. Dean has seen Sam sick, hurt and dying a countless number of times. But nothing can be compared to this, because it was him, Dean, who did this. It was Dean that drank so much of Sam’s blood that he’s unconscious, shivering, and Dean doesn’t know how badly he’s hurt. If it’s gonna be okay.  
  
No. It won’t be okay. Nothing of this can ever be okay.  
  
Dean wonders how cold it is. How long Sam has been lying on the cold floor. Dean can’t feel that, not the amount of time passed, nor the temperature in the room. But it’s most likely just above freezing point. He looks closer at Sam’s arm, examines his wound. He is relieved to find that he hasn’t bitten him. How he managed to avoid that is beyond him, but perhaps it was as Sam said; the gash was just really big. _Too big._  
  
____________________  
  
When Sam awakes he’s lying on a hard, worn couch and covered by a reeking blanket. But he takes no notice of that. The thing he notices is plastered against his back, arms slung around his chest. Dean. Then he notices the dressing on his cut, and a slow aching pulse underneath it. He tries to move, but Dean’s grip is too tight.  
  
“Stay still,” Dean whispers against his neck. Then; “I’m sorry.”  
  
“What happened?” Sam asks. He relaxes into Dean, feels his warmth seeping into his own too cold skin. It’s strange. He always thought vampires were cold.  
  
“Exactly what I warned you about. I couldn’t stop.” Dean’s voice quivers. “I’m so sorry,” he breathes again.  
  
Sam’s heart breaks a little. “Don’t be. I’m okay.”  
  
“I get it now, y’know.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“The blood addiction,” Dean says and lets out a huff that might have been a laugh if the circumstances were different.  
  
“Huh. Who would’ve thought,” Sam answers dryly, and lets out the chuckle Dean wasn’t able to. Silence falls between them for a while, and Sam almost drifts off to sleep, so tired is he.  
  
“Still cold?” Dean asks a little later, his lips almost touching the back of Sam’s neck. It sends a shiver down his spine. He doesn’t answer, just soaks in the warm, strong, reassuring feeling of his older brother plastered against his back.  
  
“I had to warm you up in some way, you were close to hypothermia.” Dean says to explain why he’s embracing Sam like a lover. When he still doesn’t get an answer he starts to get up, crawling over Sam to get off the couch.  
  
“Don’t,” Sam says, turns on his back and grabs hold of Dean’s bicep. Dean stops in the middle of his movement, his legs still were they were beside Sam, but his upper body twisted down towards Sam, one arm on either side of his shoulders. Time stops. They both feel like they ought to do something, that there’s a thing hanging between them that should be explored. But none of them dare to do anything about it. As always when moments like this occurs it ends with Dean looking away, drawing back from Sam and acting like nothing happened.  
  
“We should get going,” Dean says as he rises to his feet and turns towards the door. “No time to lose, if there really is a way to cure me then I’d rather do it before I need to… drink again.” He hesitates. “You okay? You coming or what?”  
  
“Yeah, okay, I’m okay. You’re right, no time to lose.” Sam gets up too, shudders as the blanket falls to the floor and the cold air hits his body again. And in the traditional Winchester way he changes topic. “I left our stuff at the motel, didn’t dare bring you there or leave you alone here, so we have to go pick up that first.” Avoid the sensitive stuff, get the job done, then leave and never look back. Yeah. Sure. He could do that.  
  
Dean nods, his back still turned to Sam. “Okay. And after that? You got any leads?”  
  
“Yeah, I got a couple of ideas. C’mon, let’s go.”  
  
They leave the abandoned house in silence, none of them speaking another word until they reach the motel. As they walk from the car towards their room, a couple of kids walk past them. Dean freezes in the spot, tenses. Sam can see the muscle in his jaw clenching and unclenching. His eyes go dark, his posture dangerous. He kind of reminds Sam of a wolf crouching down just before it leaps to attack.  
  
“Hey man, what’s up?” he asks cautiously. After the kids have passed them he continues; “It didn’t work? You’re still hungry?”  
  
Dean just rushes past him and into the motel-room. When Sam catches up with him he’s sitting on his bed, hiding his face in his hands. Sam locks the door behind him and goes to sit beside him. In a flash he’s face down on the mattress, arm twisted behind his back and Dean’s breath ghosts over his ear.  
  
“No. And yes.”  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Sometimes, when something really unexpected happens, people just freeze. They don’t know what to do, how to handle the situation so they just go completely passive, afraid they might make the situation worse by doing something wrong.  
  
That’s what happens to Sam. It’s not like he’s never been pinned down by Dean during wrestling matches or training before, but this is different. For one, Dean is a vampire who hungers for his blood. Second, his tongue is licking a wet spot on Sam’s neck. Third, Dean has a major hard-on pressing into Sam’s ass. Besides, he clearly has the upper hand, being extra-super-vampire-strong. And that is definitely something new. Sam has, for a few years now actually, been a lot bigger and stronger than his older brother, so being manhandled by him like this is just… well, disturbing.  
  
And it’s NOT hot. At all. It’s not making Sam breathe a little faster and it’s sure as hell not making him hard. ‘Cause there’s no way Sam is being turned on by being manhandled by a male vampire who just happens to be his brother. Nope.  
  
Okay, so he has fantasized a little about Dean. Like, a few times. Sam figures you’re pretty much bound to when you live so close to another person for so long, and when you enter each other’s personal space more than once every day. But in those fantasies he was always in the driving seat, and Dean was soft and willing as a girl. There’s nothing girly about Dean now.  
  
There’s nothing girly about the way Dean grabs hold of Sam’s hair and pulls back so that his throat is bared. There’s nothing girly about how he bites down on Sam’s neck nearly hard enough to draw blood, but not quite. Sam is scared. And so turned on that he has trouble thinking clearly. If Dean wants to bite him and drink his blood, that’s totally fine.  
  
“Please…” Dean begs. “I need your blood. Just a little taste.” His voice so deep that Sam feels it more than he hears it.  
  
“Yeah… take m… it,” Sam answers, voice strained from the uncomfortable position his head is forced into. He doesn’t even care if Dean caught on to his slip, almost telling his own brother to just _take him_ already!  
  
They’re moving in dangerous territory now. They both know it, and none of them seems to care. None the less, Dean doesn’t bite Sam. It’s an act of dimensions, to hold back from sinking his teeth deep into his brother, but somehow he manages it. Instead of biting him he lets go of Sam, rises to his feet and walks over to his duffel bag to find a knife.  
  
Sam mourns the loss of Dean’s weight pinning him down. Only now does he notice that the arm that Dean twisted behind his back is throbbing painfully. He hardly has enough time to sit up before Dean puts the knife on the nightstand and grabs hold of him again. Dean is sitting on his calves behind Sam, wrapping his arms around his chest and pulling Sam hard backwards so that Sam ends up sitting on Dean’s thighs, knees bent. Sam actually whimpers at that. Just a little, but it’s obvious that he needs this as much as Dean.  
  
Neither one of them says anything about it. Nor do they do anything about it, just sits there for a minute, breathing hard. Sam pretends his heavy breathing is due to fear. And Dean imagines that he’s hard because he aches so much for the blood, Sam’s blood. Masters of denial. Even when they’re in the middle of something that looks an awful lot like a damn hot foreplay, they’re able to keep on pretending like nothing’s changed.  
  
But they’re down to basic instinct now. And basic instinct cares little or not at all about inhibitions. So you can’t really blame Dean for trailing a hand down Sam’s chest, over his hard abs and down to his cock - which by the way is rock hard – squeezing firmly. He is rewarded for his boldness by Sam, who arches his back and reaches behind him to grab hold of Dean’s neck to pull him closer.  
  
“Aw, goddamn, yes,” he cries and turns his face towards Dean. They’re sharing breath, lips less than an inch apart. Dean only needs a small nudge from Sam’s hand on his neck to close that distance and just kiss him.  
  
They’re both flying blind here. Especially Sam, who’s never kissed another guy before, finds it strange to kiss lips so soft, but demanding and it is strange to feel Dean’s stubble, proof that he’s kissing a man. But he doesn’t care, he’s just so fucking needy right now. So he opens his mouth willingly as soon as Dean tentatively drags his tongue along his bottom lip, welcomes him in with a moan and just gives in to Dean’s assault.  
  
‘Cause that’s what it is. The minute Dean realizes how _fucking easy_ his little brother is, how willing and eager, his just let’s go of the reins he kept so short on himself. He attacks Sam’s mouth, battles for dominance and feels Sam’s dick twitch under his fingers when he bites down on his bottom lip and sucks it into his mouth.  
  
When they break apart Dean leans over to the nightstand and grabs the knife. With one hand he grabs hold of Sam’s hair once again and pulls until the back of his head is resting on Dean’s shoulder. The other hand holds the knife against his throat.  
  
“So hot,” he whispers to Sam, and he means it. The way his brothers strong frame willingly follows any instruction from Dean is making him harder than he can ever remember being. He aches for Sam right now, both his blood and his body. He wants to take Sam, drive his cock so far up his ass that he’ll feel it for days.  
  
Dean is too far gone. He can’t think straight anymore. Sam is making him fucking crazy with need. So he doesn’t ask for permission before he presses the knife down, drawing blood from his brother. At least he doesn’t cut deep, only enough to let the blood flow easy from the wound. That is actually too deep, but none of them care.  
  
When Dean attaches his lips to Sam’s throat, sucking on the blood, tasting his brother again, Sam can’t help but moan and beg. Beg for his brother to touch him, to hold him, to just fucking claim him!  
  
It’s hard, rough. Sam’s back is arched to the point of breaking, Dean’s hold on his hair painful. But Dean throws the knife away and reaches down to stroke Sam’s cock through his jeans again, and Sam just thinks that Dean can do whatever the fuck he wants, as long as he keeps on touching him.  
  
Dean drinks. At first the blood makes him even dizzier, but when the worst need for it is satisfied his head clears a little and he’s able to hold back a little more. Instead of sucking the blood from Sam’s neck, he licks at the wound, only cleans away the blood that trickles out on its own accord.  
  
Sam feels the urgency run out of his brothers movements. Well, that’s no good, he thinks and turns his head as much as Dean’s grip on his hair allows, searching for his mouth. Dean meets him halfway, kissing slower, softer than before. Sam can taste his own blood on Dean’s lips, metallic, reminding him of a time he’d rather not remember. But it doesn’t matter right now, because Dean is there. Dean holds him tight, makes the calls, and keeps him on the right track.  
  
Yeah, way to go to keep on the right track, kiss you own brother. This is wrong, choose any book you want, it won’t make it any better. Sam breaks away, or tries to at least. Dean is keeping him in place and Dean doesn’t seem to have any problem with the whole incest thing. Well, Dean always tells him that if in doubt, listen to your older brother because he is always right. Sam has never cared much for that, but this seems like a convenient time to change his mind.  
  
So he grinds his ass down against Dean’s dick, satisfied to hear his brother moan in response. Dean breaks the kiss and let go of Sam’s hair. He kisses his way down Sam’s neck, licks briefly at the wound and groans when he can’t reach more of Sam’s skin because of the shirt and tee he’s wearing.  
  
“Get it off!” he orders, but doesn’t give Sam any chance to obey before he tears the garments in two with just one simple movement. Then his hands are everywhere, roaming over naked skin, pinching lightly on Sam’s nipples, pressing him harder against Dean’s chest. Sam can only sit still and take it, and even if he wants to move because his legs are starting to hurt, he doesn’t dare to move, scared that Dean might stop. Stop licking and biting on his shoulder, stop rolling his nipples between his fingers, stop thrusting up against Sam’s ass, stop…  
  
“Fucking holy mother of God, don’t stop,” Sam moans when Dean reaches for the button in front of his jeans, pops it open and pulls down the zipper.  
  
“I love it when you beg,” Dean answers and bites down on Sam’s earlobe. It’s strange. He’s never heard Sam beg before, but just like that he knows he wants to hear it again. He wonders what other sounds he can get out of his hot-as-fuck baby brother, so he reaches inside the boxer, wraps his hand around Sam’s weeping cock and starts stroking.  
  
“Goddamn, Dean, harder, please,” Sam cries, not caring if anyone can hear them. He’s thrusting his cock up into Dean’s hand, burning with need. Suddenly his world tilts, he’s whirled around to lie on his back and Dean’s gone.  
  
For about three seconds, the time it takes for him to pull Sam’s pants away and strip out of his own clothes. Then he’s back, laying down between Sam’s legs, grabbing his wrists and placing them over Sam’s head, pinning him down with his entire weight.  
  
“Sammy, you should see yourself now, all hot and needy for me” he whispers as he nibbles his way from Sam’s ear, along his jaw and to his lips. He nips carefully at his lips first, grinds his hips down against Sam’s to draw a moan out of his brother. Sam opens his mouth and Dean dives into it, tongue fucking him with all he’s got.  
  
Sam wraps his legs around his waist, digs his heels into the small of his back, and urges him closer.  
  
“Dean, I’m gonna kill you if you make me come like this,” he moans when they finally break apart to gasp for air. Dean doesn’t answer, only releases Sam’s wrists to use one arm to lift himself partly off his brother and the other to reach between them and wrap around their cocks. Sam only needs a few strokes of Dean’s strong hand before he feels his balls drawing up, and he comes with Dean’s name on his lips, he’s making some pretty messed up faces and knows that Dean is watching him but can’t bring himself to care.  
  
“Fuck,” Dean whispers, mesmerized by the sight, before he shoots his load between their bodies too.  
  
__________________________  
  
You know when you wake up in the middle of the night and realize that you’ve done something really fucking stupid? It could be the job you quit, or the car you crashed earlier that day. That feeling in your gut, when you’re not really awake and still confused as to why you feel so fucking bad, that’s the feeling Sam and Dean wakes up with a few hours later.  
  



	4. Chapter 4

The sunlight wakes Dean from his sleep long before the sun is even up. He figures it’s because he’s a vampire and has to find somewhere to hide before it’s too late. Instinctively he wants to dig a hole in the ground, feel the cold, wet earth around him. Even more disturbing, he wants to bring Sam with him into the ground.

And if Sam wasn’t curled around him in every possible way right now, he might very well have done it, dug a hole in the ground and brought his brother with him. But one look at Sam’s sleeping face, only inches away from his own, gives Dean the strength to snap out of it, hold on to his humanity, keep from giving in to his new, savage nature.

Then he remembers why they are both in the same bed, limbs tangled together and sharing breath.

He freezes. He even stops breathing, but seeing as vampires don’t need oxygen that’s really not so bad. The only reason he hasn’t stopped breathing yet is because of old habit. But it makes him realize, really _realize_ that he’s a monster. Suddenly he feels sick, nauseous, like he needs to throw up. Carefully he disentangles himself from Sam, trying not to wake him ‘cause there’s no way he’s ready to face him yet. He almost stumbles into the bathroom, kneels in front of the toilet ready to throw up. Nothing happens. When he shoves his fingers deep down in his throat it only teaches him that he’s got no gag reflex anymore. Still, that sick, nauseous feeling stays.

He is freaking out. He considers running off, leaving Sam before he wakes up, but there’s a million reasons why he shouldn’t and only one reason why he should: he doesn’t want to face the ugly truth about himself, how he had used his own brother when he offered to help him. Because in Dean’s mind, that’s what happened. When Sam had offered him blood he’s used his vampire mojo to take a lot more from him. To take things a brother should never want from another brother.

When Sam awakes Dean is nowhere to be seen. The spot beside him where Dean slept is cold. He curses under his breath and thinks he should’ve known Dean would be stupid enough to take off, risk both his own life and others just to get away from the awkward conversation they were bound to have now.

Okay, so Sam feels pretty bad too. He’s got no idea as to what happened last night, and where they should go from here. But running away isn’t the answer. It doesn’t solve anything. He curses again, out loud this time.

“Sam? You awake?” Dean’s voice sounds from the bathroom. Sam rushes to his feet, pulls on his boxer and mentally slaps himself for not even checking the bathroom before assuming Dean had fled. But when he tries to open the door he finds it locked.

“Yeah, you okay in there?” he answers and tries to open the door once more.

“No. Everything but.”

“Why have you locked the door? Dean, let me in!”

“The light. It burns, and this is the only room without a window. If I open the door you have to close the curtains first.”

“Okay, done,” Sam says as he pulls the curtains together. The room still isn’t entirely dark, but at least there’s no direct sunlight. He can hear Dean turning the key slowly, then a rushed sound as he pulls away from the door. It hurts a little inside Sam. He knows exactly how Dean feels, what it’s like to be a monster. Been there, done that. He only hopes Dean won’t push him away, like he’s pushed Dean away countless times.

“Close it!” Dean hisses when Sam opens the door. Sam just hurries inside and closes it as fast as he can. There’s no light in the room, he can’t even see his own hand in front of him. But when he reaches for the light switch, Dean appears out of nowhere and slams him against the wall.

“Don’t!” he snarls, before he just as fast disappears and leaves Sam panting slightly.

“What? I can’t even turn on the light? I thought it was only sunlight that could hurt you?”

“I thought so too, but my eyes are just so fucking sensitive. I don’t understand, artificial light shouldn’t affect me like this, and it didn’t before the sun rose.”

Sam is bewildered. It doesn’t make any sense. And they’re in trouble, some really big-assed pile of trouble. It seems to be too many things expected of him now, he should go see if Dean is alright, talk to him about what happened, he should find out why the light is hurting his brother so much, they should get on their way so that they can find Samuel and the cure, and by the way, Sam is fucking starving right now.

And he’s scared for Dean. The longer he stays a vampire, the more painful the cure will be. He almost forgets about his training, do what you can with what you have. It’s a bit annoying really, whenever the case is his brother he can’t seem to function straight, just running around in loops while screaming his lungs out. But finally the hunter in Sam wins, and then it’s first things first. He obviously can’t move Dean anywhere until nightfall, and touchy-feely-what-happened-last-night is not his first priority. His first priority is to find out why Dean is hypersensitive to light, if it can kill him or hurt him in any way and to tell Samuel that they’ll be late and he has to start preparing the cure without them. And maybe he can grab a sandwich along the way. It would be really awesome if he were to survive this too. Sam snorts at the thought and regains the Winchester inside him. Avoid the sensitive stuff and get the job done. But no way in hell was he going to let this rest forever; he had some major confessions to drag out of his brother. Or at least, he hoped so…

“Will you be okay if I leave you here for a while?” Sam asks. Now it is Dean’s turn to snort.

“I’m not an orphan. I won’t fall over and crack my skull against the closest hard object.”

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Sam answers and turns to leave. Once again he finds himself pushed up against the wall, this time face first. Dean threads his fingers through Sam’s, brings his hand up above his head with no effort, even though Sam is struggling against him. Sam is no small waif. He is a grown –hell, according to Dean; overgrown- man and it annoys the shit out of him that Dean so easily can turn him into a puddle of want and desire.

“Don’t be long,” Dean whispers in a warning tone that sends shivers down Sam’s spine, before slowly letting go of his little brother.

“When did your messages become so damned physical, Dean?” Sam tries to sound casual as he turns the door handle and slips out. But he doesn’t fool Dean.

Dean knows exactly how he affects his brother. The only thing he’s not sure about is whether Sam’s got a thing for him, vampires or just the whole being manhandled part. Or if he’s subconsciously uses his mojo on Sam even though he tries not to. Maybe this vampire business wasn’t so stupid after all? But then a small stream of light enters the room as Sam slips out, and it burns like a bitch all over him. Especially his eyes feel like they’re going to boil out of his skull and he hisses at the pain. It’s gone as soon as Sam closes the door, but it promptly reminds Dean that nothing about him is as it should be.

What he can’t really figure out is what they’re going to do when this is all over. Where they stand. It was a lot easier to see Sam after what they’d done than he’d expected, but then they are masters of denial. Especially Dean knows that if you don’t talk about it, it doesn’t exist or it never happened. He’s not so sure that’ll go over good with Sam. Actually he is pretty certain it won’t. What he can’t figure out is what he is going to tell Sam when he finally manages to corner Dean and assault him with questions. Because it will happen, Dean is aware of that. Luckily Sam seems focused on the case for now, to cure Dean. But when it’s all over and everything worked out alright like it always does, nothing will stop him from getting to the truth. Damn that stubborn bastard.

He’ll just tell him vampires have no specific sexual orientation. That his mind could only focus on not drinking too much blood, and didn’t get the memo about how it’s not nice to have sex with you baby brother. Or that vampires mated during feeding and he had no choice in the matter.

The explanations sounds terrible even in his own head, but there is still no freaking way he’s going to tell Sam that he’s been in love with him for ten long years. Because whatever the hell is going on with him and Sam right now, is all because of this fucking vampire stuff. Sam loves him, yeah, but not _that_ kind of love. And all Dean can do now is hope that what he did to Sam won’t fill him with disgust and turn them against each other.

So when Sam returns a few hours later he tries to keep a safe distance from him. He does, he really, really tries with all his heart and soul. But you see, that’s not so easy when the person you try to keep away from has you trapped inside a dim room and tells you that you need to drink more of his blood or else you’ll be too weak to stand by nightfall.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that Dean fails utterly.


	5. Chapter 5

If Sam is a walking encyclopedia of weirdness then his grandfather is a walking encyclopedia of the creepy and the crawly. Sam only needs to take one phone call to figure out what’s wrong with Dean, and Samuel answers his questions with a tone that makes Sam feel like a first grader. It annoys Sam, but he keeps his mouth shut and tells him that they’ll be late, offering no explanation.

After the call he spends more than an hour trying to find something decent to eat. It’s not that hard really, but he’s just attempting to unwind his thoughts before going back to Dean, so he drives past the only real diner in town three times before he notices it. And after that he’s just making up excuses. Truly fucking awful excuses like when he imagines that he needs a new pair of shoes, and spends more than half an hour looking for big enough sneakers even though he doesn’t wear sneakers and has no intention of ever using them.

He knows he’s trying to evade the inevitable, and it’s not like him. But it’s not like him to shoot his load all over Dean’s flat abs either, so you can’t actually blame him for acting a little out of character. The thing is he’s not ready for a conversation with his vampire brother. He wants to talk to Dean, his annoying I-don’t-want-to-talk-about-it big brother, not the drama queen lusting for his blood that awaits him at the motel. And he knows what he’s got to do when he goes back, so he’s stalling for as long as he possibly can.

Dean is exasperated when Sam finally walks in the door. He tries to hide it though, kudos to him for that. But Sam knows him better than anyone, and reads the subtle signs his brother gives away as easily as you read the lunch menu. Like when Dean refuses to let him into the bathroom and claims it’s for his own good. Sam knows it has nothing to do with the fact that Dean wants to protect him and everything to do with the fact that Dean can’t stand the sight of his easy little brother. Or when Dean shies away from him after he finally managed to convince him to open the door. He shies away as if disgusted by his very presence. It reminds Sam of the time he was addicted to blood, and he’s sure that if it was enough light in the room he’d see the same angry and disappointed expression on Dean’s face that he had back when he first found out about the blood.

“Dean?” Sam asks hesitantly, as if he is expecting a punch any second now. “Are you okay? You sound… sick.” He really does sound sick, his breathing is heavy and he’s making small moaning noises.

“No, it’s nothing, I’m totally fine,” Dean lies. The truth is he’s so hungry that he can’t understand what keeps him from devouring his brother right here and now. Sam’s heartbeat sounds like thunder in his ears, his blood singing to him and his scent…God, his scent nearly drives Dean mad.

“Liar,” Sam accuses. “I know how you feel now, Dean. I talked to Samuel, and he told me a few interesting things about vampires.”

Dean is almost certain he doesn’t want to hear these supposedly interesting things about himself. He already knows it is bad news.

“You have to drink more of my blood,” Sam continues. “A lot more.”

Dean can hear Sam’s voice trembling. He can smell the fear radiating from him. He has trouble reading Sam’s expression in the dark, but he doesn’t need to, because he knows why he’s scared. He’s scared Dean is going to lose control again, like last night.

“I don’t _have_ to do anything, I’m fine, I’m telling ya,” Dean protests.

Sam pretends not to hear him and steps closer to Dean, one hand extended in front of him, because unlike Dean, he can see nothing at all. ”You’re weakened already, and if you don’t take my blood, and a lot more than you’ve done earlier, you’re gonna die and I won’t let that happen. So suck it up,” Sam warns and add; “Pun not intended.”

Dean tries to back away, he does, but motel bathrooms aren’t famous for their size. His back hits the wall, and he watches as Sam approaches carefully, unable to get away when his warm fingers finally fall upon Dean’s shoulder.

“Please, don’t… just don’t touch me,” Dean pleads.

“Okay,” Sam complies, and pulls his hand away. “But you see, newborn vampires die if they don’t do this little thing. In order for them to fully embrace their undead life they have to drain another person to death. And if you only drink a little the first time, then you are weakened, more sensitive to any kind of light and will eventually die if you don’t… kill your first victim.”

Dean lets out an almost relieved breath. That settles it then. No more wondering, no more pain, no more fear.

“Well, that’s out of the question, I’m not draining you Sammy,” he says as he feels his eyes watering. “Let’s face it, there’s nothing more we can do, you tried, but this time we’re not…”

“Shut it, Dean, you haven’t even heard it all! Don’t you give up now, I’m not giving up on you, so could you please just shut up and listen?!” Sam is starting to sound desperate; he really can’t stand the thought of losing his brother again. There’s got to be a limit for how many times you can rise from the dead, and they both must be close to crossing that line now.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned these past years, it’s that nothing is written in stone. There’s always room for improvisation, we can make this work!”

But Dean doesn’t see the hope like Sam does. It feels like no amount of blood will be able to satisfy his thirst right now. His knees are shaking, and he has trouble staying on his feet even though he’s leaning against the wall. The thundering sound of Sam’s heartbeat grows stronger and everything in Dean screams at him to just take his blood already! But he’s too weak.

“The thing is you can survive on slightly smaller quantities of my blood, but only mine. Any other blood won’t be able to satisfy you until you’ve turned completely. But the thing is if you turn completely we won’t be able to change you back, so you just gotta hang on for a little while. When the sun sets, we’ll get in the car, and head for Samuel. He’s got some people tracking down your maker right now, if we’re lucky they’ll be back with his blood before the night is over.” Sam pauses, and struggles to see Dean through the massive darkness in front of him. He can hear his shaking breath, feel the tension in the air, it’s like it’s trickling with electricity. He wants to put his arms around Dean, hold him tight and tell him it’s all going to be okay. But he knows Dean won’t allow it, so he stays where he is, only two feet away from his brother.

Dean finally feels his legs give out. He sinks to the floor, back still leaning against the wall. Sam is there immediately, ignoring Dean’s previous request not to be touched. He puts his hands on his shoulders, squeezes lightly, and then lets one hand trail up Dean’s throat to cup his face. They’re suddenly so close. So fucking close. They’re sharing breath, and if they could just read each other’s mind they’d know they’re also sharing thoughts.

Doubt. Want. Love. Fear. Trust. Hope. Desire and panic is flooding through their heads and they feel, at the exact same time, that they’re drowning.

“Dean,” Sam whispers and leans his forehead to Dean’s. “Please… Please! I beg you, drink my blood, I can’t lose you, I don’t wanna be alone, I can’t...” He presses his lips to Dean’s. It’s not so much a kiss as a touch, but it still makes Dean inhale sharply and his mind go haywire. Sam is holding his head in a vice like grip now, not allowing him to move at all. And at this point he’s so weak not even his vampire strength can help him with that.

“Dean…”

And Dean can’t take it. He just. Shit. The hunger for his brother consumes him, and he doesn’t know why, if he does it because he’s a vampire or if he does it because he loves his brother in so many ways, but he strains forward, just a little, and it’s enough to make their lips meet again. This time it is Sam’s turn to gasp a little. He slides his hands down to Dean’s shoulders again, pushes back, tugs, clutches, unable to determine what to do. He wants to kiss Dean deeper, wants to pull him into a tight hug, wants to give him everything and anything he’s ever wanted.

Their lips are still touching, they’re breathing each other in, and it’s intimate in a way they’ve never experienced before. Last night was nothing like this. Even with a lot less clothing and much more touching and groping, it’s not comparable. It’s like they’re taking each other in with every breath, a token of lost days, lost love, and fuck if it isn’t confusing as hell and good as heaven at the same time.

Dean licks his lips unconsciously, barely touching Sam’s lips at the same time. Another small gasp, another tug on his jacket, and Dean feels his walls starting to crash down. He wants to tell Sam okay, go ahead, but his voice doesn’t seem to work.

Sam gets the point anyway. He touches his lips to Dean’s a little harder, moves his lips, and tentatively licks at Dean’s bottom lip. Dean answers by opening his mouth a little, inviting Sam in, moaning as Sam takes advantage and practically dives into his mouth. Sam tastes of salty tears, and Dean is still coherent enough to feel bad for being so focused on his own internal turmoil that he didn’t notice how it affected Sam.

He makes up for it by grabbing Sam’s neck with both hands, pulling him in and putting everything he has left into the kiss. They communicate on a completely different level now, and it has nothing to do with one of them being a vampire. It’s just because it’s them. Sam and Dean. No one ever mattered like Sam did for Dean. Conquest after conquest, and no one ever compared to the Sam of his dreams.

And now he’s there. Kissing his brother like his life depends on it. And in a way, maybe it does.

Sam feels all kind of hot and needy for Dean, but he keeps his agenda in mind and reaches down to his boot with one hand as Dean starts kissing him back earnestly. He pulls out his knife, and places it in Dean’s hand the minute he releases his grip on Sam’s neck just a little.

Dean freezes. He knows he has to do it. Not for himself, but for Sam. If he accidentally kills him, well, then at least they’ll die together. Because he knows now; they can’t live without each other. The life he led with Lisa and Ben was nice enough in some ways. But he lost himself. And Sam has been lost too.

They’re only good when they’re together.

 

 


End file.
